


Hymenated - Dragons

by forlovedones



Series: The Hymenated Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Dragons, Episode: s06e12 Like a Virgin, F/M, First Time, Genderbending, Genderswap, Handcuffs, M/M, Re-Hymenated Dean Winchester, Season/Series 06, Vaginal Sex, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlovedones/pseuds/forlovedones
Summary: What if Stan was the one to get abducted by dragons from the airplane, not Penny? (S6E12)Teaser:“Dean… did it occur to you and Bobby that you fit this profile perfectly?”They were in the Impala on their way to Portland, Sam sitting passenger with his laptop and a pile of papers from the case file Bobby had printed up.“Two vics isn't a profile, Sam.”“Yeah but they're both good looking white males, and both 32 years old.”Dean waggled his eyebrows at his brother. “You think I'm good looking?”Sam winced at him. “Shut up.”(Part of a series of one-shots with a common theme, written because I have a very specific kink: canon-compliant Winchesters with magical girl bits. No boobs, no cross dressing, just the lower fun parts. ... Yes I am ashamed. Enjoy! :D)





	Hymenated - Dragons

“Dean… did it occur to you and Bobby that you fit this profile perfectly?”

They were in the Impala on their way to Portland, Sam sitting passenger with his laptop and a pile of papers from the case file Bobby had printed up. 

“Two vics isn't a profile, Sam.”

“Yeah but they're both good looking white males, and both 32 years old.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows at his brother. “You think I'm good looking?”

Sam winced at him. “Shut up.”

“I donno man, it sounds like a coincidence to me. And hey the guy who disappeared while piloting a two seater – Stan? – that sounds like our kind of deal, but the second one? Man it's just a missing-persons, a full grown man that didn't show up for work. Most likely he's knee deep in strippers somewhere pawning his wedding ring.”

Sam rifled through the papers again and ran a hand down his chin. “Yeah maybe you're right.”

Dean nodded Sam's way. “That's cuz I'm always right. Older brother privilege.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Happy Birthday by the way. Sorry I spent it in a coma.”

It was Dean's turn to wince. “Shut up. Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

\---

Sam tried calling Dean, again. _This is Dean's other, other cell so you must know what to do._

“Dean. This is vic number four – all white males, all 32. Answer the freaking phone.” He hung up. He'd been calling for nearly an hour. Dean was supposed to be back from San Francisco with their dragon killing weapon by now. 

Sam stared at the sewer maps he had spread in front of him. “Dammit.”

\---

Dean woke up in a pit – a sewer pit, judging by the smell – dusted in ash with a glass cut on his cheek. He vaguely remembered something bursting through his Baby's windshield while he was at a stop light. “Shit.” He rolled over, just in time to see a dragon's fist light up and weld a cage lid shut above him. “Shit!”

“That's five, go get the witch,” a deep voice rumbled from out of sight. Footsteps echoed away. 

Dean jumped up and pushed at the cage lid. No give. He looked around. There were four other men crammed in here, barely enough room to move. 

“Did he say witch?” one of them whispered. 

He checked his pockets. Lock picks were useless. He didn't have the dragon killing sword – that was in Baby's trunk – but he still had his ivory pistol. He pulled it out and cocked it, checking to make sure it still worked. A few of the guys flinched away. 

“Is one of you Stan?” he asked the group. A man raised his hand. “And let me guess… you're all 32?”

The men all glanced at each other. “...How did you know that?” one answered.

Great. Time for The Talk. Poor bastards.

\---

Sam had been wandering the sewer for hours. No sign of dragons or Dean. He'd nearly had a panic attack when he'd found the Impala with no Dean in it a block from their hotel. 

He stepped in yet another unnamed puddle and swore. Maybe he was actually still in Hell. 

Then he heard gunshots. 

\---

Dean emptied his clip into the dragon and the witch they'd brought with them but it did no good. He didn't have witch killing bullets, or bullets forged from dragon's blood. The witch only paused long enough to say ‘ouch’ and look at Dean like he was a misbehaving child before she continued chanting. He could feel his blood starting to boil and seized up, dropping his empty gun. The other guys appeared to be having the same issues. 

The witch tossed some sort of powder into a bowl and there was a poof of smoke. 

Then Sam was there, shoving a broken sword through the dragon's chest. The wound sizzled, the beast’s eyes flashed, then it dropped dead. The witch screamed and turned to run. Dean's blood stopped boiling.

“Dean!” Sam called. 

“We're fine!” Dean answered, though he didn't technically know if that was true yet. “Get the witch!”

Sam took off. 

The dragon's corpse was actually smoldering, red hot.

Right. Time to get out. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his hands, then grabbed the dragon's smoking arm and placed it on the cage’s weld. It started to heat up. So did Dean's hands, but he held on anyway. 

There was a pop as the crude weld broke. He threw the cage lid open and pulled himself bodily out of the hole. As he stood he noticed his pants felt odd, like they might fall off. Weird. 

No time for that. The second dragon had just rounded the corner. He pulled the broken sword from the first dragon's back and took off after it. 

\---

Many hours later they were packing up their hotel room. The two dragons and the witch were dead, their burnt remains already buried out in bigfoot country. They also had two full jars of dragon's blood. Sam's idea. They would have to find a blacksmith with an open mind, but maybe one day they'd be able to find out if forged bullets work just as well as forged blades. 

They'd also found an old spell book on the dragon's altar, and a laptop with the local police department's logo on the back. 

Sam dropped both into his laptop bag to study on their way back to Bobby's. “That's probably how they knew who was 32; some police laptops have license plate processing software on them now, they could run hundreds of plates a day and check their driver's licenses.”

“Yeah probably. Baby's registered under a fake ID of course, but under my real birthday. Awesome.”

“Why the hell did they have a witch with them though?” Sam asked. 

“They said something about needing 32 year old virgins for a spell. Maybe she was re-hymenating us?”

Sam snorted. “Right. Like any spell could do that.”

Dean tossed his packed duffle on the bed and went to use the toilet. “I donno man. We'll get that dragon book to Bobby, maybe it will he _aaahh!_ ” His sentence ended in a yell, almost a screech.

“Dean! What-?” Sam had his gun out and the bathroom door kicked open before he even thought about it. 

Dean had his pants down and turned around to face Sam, full frontal. 

“Dude!” Sam moved to cover his eyes – then stopped. There was nothing to see. Literally. “Dude. Where's your dick?”

Dean's eyes were wide with shock and fury. “I- freaking- _hate-_ witches!”

\---

Dean was calling the other four victims while Sam talked to Bobby. They both ended their calls at the same time. 

Dean threw his phone on the hotel bed. “The other guys are smooth too. Shit.”

“Well, not smooth,” Sam quipped in helpfully. “I mean you just have new equipment down-”

“You shut your pie hole.” Dean cut him off, pointing threateningly. 

Sam was working hard not to laugh. “Right. Well Bobby's working on it. It's new to him though. His guess is that 32 year old female virgins are so rare that it was easier to grab men and make them female instead.”

Dean was still outraged, barely containing himself. “There's no way that would really work!”

“Actually Bobby thinks it would. As long as the guy had never been, you know… penetrated.”

“Jesus Sam, shut up!” Dean threw his hands over his ears, whirling around. 

“But either boobs aren't required, or the spell got interrupted. Lucky you.”

“Lucky?” Dean growled. 

“Yeah. I mean at least your clothes still fit,” Sam replied with a suspiciously straight face. 

Dean swore again. It took another minute of him pacing to calm down. “Alright. Okay. So?”

“So… just keep it in your pants till we find a cure I guess.”

“Fantastic.”

\---

_Two months later_

Dean didn't know girls could get just as horny and pent up as guys. After the initial shock wore off Dean had decided he wasn't above some experimentation, and he'd rubbed his tiny… thing… until it was sore. Okay, he was still too chicken to go past a bit of outside touching, but he must be doing it wrong because he was pretty sure he hadn't, you know, finished yet. The area just throbbed. 

Shit. He felt disgusting. And The Father of All Monsters was cutting a bloody swath through North America.

Bloody. Something else that hadn't occurred to him initially, or wanted to experience ever again… but at this rate it was going to be his monthly hell. How did women put up with it? 

He was thinking about it all–for the billionth time–while sitting on the toilet, trying to do what he usually would have done standing, when Sam came in without knocking to wash excess salt off his hands. He'd been restocking. “Dude!” Dean objected, closing his legs. 

Sam didn't look over. “What? Lock the door then.” He dried his hands on a towel and left.

Dean finished his business with a pathetic trickle that made him want to use a whole roll of toilet paper to clean up, then washed and exited. 

Sam was back at his laptop. “So Dean, something just occurred to me-”

“Don't say it,” Dean muttered. 

“What?” Sam said, confused. 

“What?” Dean replied.

There was a pause while Sam eyed Dean. “Just… I'm worried. About your spell.”

“Yeah you and me both.”

“No I mean, about you being a… a virgin.”

Another long pause. 

“What does that matter?” Dean growled. 

“It's just, Adam–the Father, whatever–seems to have a serious thing for virgins.”

“Yeah obviously.” Most of the victims they'd been tracking were virgins, male and female, young and old. “He's been snacking on them like popcorn. So?”

“So…” Sam hesitated. “Just… I don't think it's a great idea to face him, you know… hymenated.”

Dean stared.

Sam stared. 

“It's just-” Sam started.

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

\---

Except he was starting to run out of options. And he wanted to believe he'd rather die… but he actually wouldn't. 

\---

Dammit, Dean was getting sick of cages. The police Jefferson Starships had locked him and Sam in a cell, after making quite a few comments about how good and fertile Dean smelled and how the Father had big plans for him. There was no sign of Cas or Bobby. 

And worse, ever since they'd gotten to this Oregon town hoping to kill the Father of All Monsters with phoenix ash his new… area... had been tingling. Like zings up his middle. Apparently The Father had a presence. 

“Dean,” was all Sam said. It was enough. 

Dean sat on the cot. “...Alright. Come on.”

It was Sam that hesitated then. “I'm sorry. If there was anyone else…”

Dean snorted. “You think I'd do this with anyone else?”

Sam looked shocked at that. 

Dean glanced away. “I mean sorry but, the idea of some, you know… other guy is… I mean what would I even say?”

Sam was definitely blushing. “Yeah… yeah I know what you mean.” He shifted. “But we're brothers.”

Dean rolled his eyes and decided. He opened his legs. “Just get over here, bitch.”

Sam slide over easily, one knee on the cot between Dean's legs. He was surprisingly graceful for a giant. “Jerk,” Sam nearly whispered. Dean's heart rate picked up. He could feel it in his new junk. Sam leaned in, and Dean couldn't help but close his eyes... then Sam was kissing him and it was wet and hot and maybe more than just his junk had been changed because Dean didn't care Sam was a dude or related or anything. It was just Sam.

He gripped the front of Sam's jacket and pulled them both back. They were in handcuffs, but with a bit of shuffling they both got on the cot, Sam on top with his slim hips pressed between Dean's thighs, leaning on his elbows around Dean's head. He pressed in to deepen the kiss and Dean opened easily. It only took another minute before Dean was shifting his hips against his little brother's crotch, his fingers tangled in Sam's long and surprisingly soft hair. 

They broke apart slowly, making quiet gasps. Dean pushed at Sam's shoulders to get him to lean up enough that Dean could get his handcuffed hands between them and start on Sam's belt. Sam shuffled and sat up. Dean followed and attacked Sam's mouth again. They were opening each other's jeans then, and Sam gasped when Dean got his hands in first. Dean squeezed and pulled and Sam groaned and Dean's pulse picked up again. 

Suddenly it was like he couldn't wait, after hours of the Father's teasing. He shifted his open jeans further down his hips, straddled Sam and pushed down, guiding it with his hands. Sam groaned again, his eyes squeezed shut, gripping Dean's shoulder so tight he was sure it would bruise. 

Dean lowered himself slowly, Sam's equipment entering hot and hard and deep. There was so much pressure, maybe Dean should have spent more time prepping. But the pain was a dull ache that almost felt good... like scratching an itch. He let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and sat.

They both caught their breath, and Dean laughed a bit. “Our lives are crazy, man.”

In reply, Sam looped his handcuffed arms around Dean, got his hands under Dean's ass, and held him still. Then he rocked his hips forward and Dean gasped as his brother's monster cock got impossibly deeper and hit something that made his legs twitch. He wanted to tell Sam to wait, but before he could Sam pulled back and pumped in again. And again. And again. 

It was Dean's turn to moan. This was so much better than his own experimenting over the past few months. Sam's cock was touching him everywhere, rubbing everything, so big and hot. 

“God you're so wet,” Sam moaned in his ear. “Soaking.”

Dean was. He could feel it dripping out of him. Squeezed out from someplace inside him, somewhere secret and deep. He moaned again. “Sammy…”

It was so different from anything he'd ever felt before. Sex as a man was friction and heat and instinct. Sex as a girl was like liquid lava. He couldn't tell if he'd orgasmed yet or if it was all one long climax. He could barely breathe. Sensation zinged up his core making his nipples tighten and he shuddered. “Sam wa-wait, _aah_ , just wait a-” He fought Sam's grip, trying to pull away. It was too much. 

Instead of listening Sam gripped Dean tighter, flipped them around, and dropped Dean onto the cot, pinning Dean on his back with his ass in the air. Sam got his hands and knees balanced, then shoved in again. Except now he had enough room to make each thrust perfect, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in even deeper than before, even faster than before. 

Woah. His nerdy kid brother was a sadist. Who knew. 

God it felt so good. Rubbing him so perfect. Pushing deep on his insides. He didn't even have the strength to feel shame as noises were pushed out of him, one after the other, unable to control them like he was unable to control the pleasure being forced into him by Sam's relentless fucking. He'd never been so out of control. A surreal part of him knew it also wasn't necessary; a dick penetrating him was enough, he wasn't a virgin anymore, they could stop. They should stop. 

Except he knew they couldn't, they really couldn't. 

His feet, tangled in his jeans, accidentally kicked out and clipped Sam's face. Sam huffed his annoyance and sat his cock in deep while he paused to pull off one of Dean's boots and get that leg out of his jeans. Dean's legs spread wide once released, instinctually granting Sam more access, and they both gasped as Sam's balls pressed up against Dean's entrance, everything shifting impossibly deeper. 

Dean gripped those slim hips with his thighs and pushed up with his heels. He grinned as his efforts made Sam gasp and close his eyes for a moment. Then Sam seemed to take it as the challenge that it was and resumed his fucking with a vengeance. 

Dean moaned again and met each thrust as best he could, though his body ached at the unfamiliar positions and rhythms. His legs were quaking with the strain of chasing the new feelings. 

Then he knew he'd been wrong. He hadn't orgasmed yet. Because this was definitely an orgasm. His breath froze in his chest and his legs seized up as something in him spasmed and squeezed and pulsed, making his wet pussy tighten and clench using muscles he didn't know he had. He shuddered and moaned as his toes curled and thighs twitched through the climax. Sam gasped and slowed his thrusting so each entrance was a slow push on Dean's insides, drawing out the sensations and making it last long past what he was used to. 

He shuddered again. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Then flinched as Sam hit that spot again and another spasm coursed through him, catching him by surprise. He groaned, loud and long. How did girls survive it? He was on fire. 

Then Sam leaned forward and started kissing him again and his next moan was muffled as he came back to earth. He could feel his heartbeat in his skull and buzzing numbly through both his sets of lips. 

Sam kissed him and kept up his slow shallow thrusts for a minute more, then shifted back into his best fucking position again, Dean's knees pushed up against his own shoulders this time. “Ready?” he growled. 

Dean couldn't help it. He nodded. 

Sam started up again. Dean thought it would hurt, like his dick would so soon after shooting, but his new hole warmed quickly to the sensations and it was like he'd never cum at all. He was back at that high point in seconds. “Yea-yeah Sammy, so good- right there- shit shit shit- _mmmm-_ ” He rolled his head and closed his eyes. 

“Dean!” Sam gasped, and pushed impossibly faster. 

“Yeah Sam come on- _hah_ \- dump it- dump it in your big sister!”

Sam let out a laugh. “Shuddup you stupid- _haah! Mm!_ ” Dean felt Sam shudder and lose his rhythm. His thrusting became arrhythmic as he finally shot his load. Dean hadn't realized he'd be able to feel all that hot seed hit his womb, wet and burning inside him. He wrapped his legs around his brother's and kept Sam there, rolling his hips a bit like he knew he liked girls to do to him. Sam groaned. 

Dean was close again, he could feel it. He thrust his hands between them, got a couple fingertips wet with his own juices, and rubbed his swollen little nub. He flushed hot with sudden shame at the squelching noise it made but couldn't stop, and rubbed it hard and fast until he seized up again around Sam's softening dick. Hot liquid dripped from his pussy down his ass crack. 

They both gasped together for a bit. Dean laughed. Sam shoved him. They pulled apart and got into sitting positions. Sam handed him back his shoe. 

“Wow baby you're so good to me,” Dean quipped.

Sam shoved him again. “Moron.”

Dean laughed. 

\---

Cas and Bobby found them eventually. They cut off some monster heads, went to the restaurant, and honestly Dean had swallowed that phoenix whiskey on a whim, never actually thinking it would work.

But still. One Father down. A Father that had been pretty pissed when Dean showed up de-hymenated, ‘unbreedable’ or something… luckily Cas and Bobby were still outside for that hissy fit. There are some things you just don't want to share with family. 

They'd been leaving town when Bobby called them to say another hunter had found the Portland witch's coven at last. It was a milk run to swing by and within hours Dean suddenly had a cure. 

They called the other four men and they were all still in the area. They rolled out four batches of cure: nothing but an awful potion and a few words in Latin. They split up to save time and met at Frank's Noodle House after, exhausted but successful for once. 

Dean got there first, waiting at a table when Sam joined him. Dean had his own potion cure in his hands, fiddling with it. 

“So?” Sam asked neutrally. 

“One of the guys… he said he's fine,” Dean replied. “Doesn't want it.”

“Huh,” said Sam, though he didn't sound surprised. 

Dean fiddled with his potion a minute more. Then their waitress came and Dean pocketed it and ordered a beer.


End file.
